


The Boy Who Waited

by CelesteJEvans



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen, History, Merlin Memory Month, Mourning, Post-Canon, Sad, death anniversary, merlin waiting for arthur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 07:28:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14100396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelesteJEvans/pseuds/CelesteJEvans
Summary: Merlin will always wait for Arthur. No matter happens. He - and Albion - will wait.





	The Boy Who Waited

**Author's Note:**

> My response to Merlin Memory Month: Day 8, Writing Path - Create a new holiday.
> 
> Somewhat dedicated to madsthenerdygirl. She knows why.
> 
> This whole series is just going to be sad but...I hope you like it.
> 
> Any and all comments are appreciated.

It had been one year. He wasn’t sure how he knew but he could sense it. He couldn’t bear to count the days – or sleepless nights – but Merlin knew that today was the day he’d lost everything. His heart ached as he stared out at the island. Some days it seemed so near he could swim to it with a few strokes of his stick-thin arms. Others, it was too far away to touch. On clear days, he was a warm beacon of hope – a reminder of life. But on cloudy, dismal days, he was only a reminder of all that had been lost that day. Today. One year ago.

As the sun rose, the ancient wizard sat in the grass, his legs resting in front of him, pulling blades of grass up one by one, and blowing them across the lake; like wishes he cast out into the world. He couldn’t look out across the lake, couldn’t bear to gaze. If he stared too long, he’d begin to hope that today was the day it would change. It never was.

Every morning, Merlin walked down to the shore and sat waiting. Always waiting. _You never could wake up on time_. He chuckled but no sound escaped his body. He was thinner now. Couldn’t bear to eat some days. He walked for kilometers every day; long stretches of road that always led back to here and now. His mother would insist that he take some time for himself. Eat, sleep, enjoy the life he was given. But he couldn’t. Every day that he was alive was a reminder of that day. The guilt woke him almost every night in sweat and tears. Though the tears had dried up several month ago. There was no sense in crying; he had a duty to perform.

 So every morning he walked down to the shore and watched the water shifting with anticipation. He sat for hours until darkness fell, then he walked to the cave an hour’s journey to the west where he tried, in vain, to rest his eyes before he began his journey again the next day.

Today was like every other day, and yet it was unlike any day he’d ever lived in his entire life. After several hours of waiting and watching the waves, Merlin looked to the west and saw the sun hanging low, preparing for sleep. This was the time he would begin his journey away but something stayed him; a pull that grounded him to this spot on this day. And so, instead, he gathered a few twigs and branches and placed them in a pile. It was a mindless task – one he’d performed too many times to count – but it brought him a kind of peace to live in the familiar. He sat cross-legged in front of his pile and closed his eyes, focusing his weary mind on a single thought.

“ _Forbærne._ ” He whispered, only opening is eyes when the fire was crackling softly. “I’ll stay with you tonight.” He decided. Merlin smiled. He so rarely used his magic this days – he spoke even less – that it felt good to feel the tingle of life swimming in his fingertips. How he’d longed for the day when he didn’t have to hide.

Just as quickly, the calm was broken by a branch snapping not far from his resting place. Merlin leapt to his feet, his head spinning as he regained his bearings and immediately stomped out his meager fire.

“I wasn’t expecting company.” He muttered as he continued to pound his feet. “Don’t worry,” he still didn’t look out “I’ll hide us both.” Merlin held his right hand out towards the island, his eyes glazing over as he summoned a spell from the annals of his lost youth. “ _Bene læg gesweorc_.” A mist swept from the trees behind him and blanketed the world. Through the forest, across the lake, and beyond the island. No one could find them unless they knew where they were going.

But still, the rustling continued, growing louder with each step. Accompanying them was a bouncing light – several bouncing lights. A village was approaching their hiding place with no sign of stopping. Merlin raised his hand, stepping behind a clump of trees in anticipation. He was ready for anything.

Suddenly a figure emerged from the trees with the grace of a queen and he froze. He watched as the figure in the velvet cloak quickened her pace with each step until she was nearly at the shore. She stopped, gripping her skirts with shaking hands. Guinevere’s voice sang through the mist.

“Leon. Leon!” A second figured stepped through the void, holding his sword as he rushed to her side. The pair gazed across the waiting lake in awe. “This is it: the island, the lake, even the mist.” The queen couldn’t believe her own words. Leon placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“The place from your dream?”

She nodded, still watching the water dance. “This is where Arthur lies.”

“Who would bring him here?” She looked at him with an expression Merlin couldn’t see but could picture in his mind with vivid realism. _How could you_ not _know?_ Leon nodded grimly. “You’ve not heard from him, then?”

Merlin ducked further into the trees. They were talking about him. They never forgot. But what did they know now that he was gone? “There was a sighting near the border. Heading towards Essetir.”

“You think he went back to Ealdor?”

Gwen shook her head and looked out at the world before her. “Hunith never sent word. If he did he didn’t stay long.” Of course, she was right. He’d been to see his mother once and he only stayed for a week. He couldn’t bear any reminders of the life he once had – the life when he wasn’t waiting. That had been many months ago. He came back to the island. As he always did.

“Why has he never returned to Camelot?” Leon’s desperate words broke through his thoughts.

“He thinks there’s nothing left for him.”

The knight straightened and turned to his queen, prepared to fight. “That’s not” He was silenced by a gentle hand to his heart.

“I don’t know that he’s wrong.” Guinevere. So smart. Too smart sometimes, but there was always wisdom beyond her years. She held it in her voice. “We are creating a legacy in both their names. The work they’ve done will change the course of history.” She tilted her head, gently guiding him to the truth. “Could _you_ live through that?”

Again, the knight nodded in understanding, his neck sinking lower as the truth of her words weighed it down. The pair were silent. Gwen kept a comforting hand on her friend as he let himself grieve for just a moment. Merlin stepped forward, aching to comfort them but he knew he couldn’t – shouldn’t – wouldn’t.

Leon lifted his head, hiding a sniffle as they returned to the business at hand. “The others are waiting to pay their respects.”

Gwen shook her head, stifling an incredulous laugh. “They follow me blindly through the woods. How could they know where I was going?”

“They would follow you anywhere, your majesty.” Leon was right. Camelot was left in good, kind hands and though Merlin didn’t return, he knew the kingdom was safe with her. Albion was safe with her.

Gwen’s smile held back tears. “Let them come.” Her knight bowed his head and jogged back to the forest.

Alone at last, Her Majesty, Queen of Camelot wept silently. The serving girl held her cape tighter, hugging her body. “I miss you both.” She confessed to to the mist. Merlin stepped forward again. She wept for the man she loved and the friend she lost but her tears would not last long.

Again, he hid when he heard footsteps approaching. His heart beat out of his chest; he could not face them. Whoever the “others” were. The knights. Whoever was left after the battle. He covered his hand to hide his gasp when the whole of Camelot seemed to emerge from the forest. Old men hunched over canes; children carried in their parent’s arms, weary from travel. Farmers, noblemen, everyone in the city was there to pay their respects. Each family held a candle – for warmth, and light, and mourning. They filled the shore line for several kilometers, each standing against the waves and keeping a silent watch over the island.

All Merlin could do was stand and guard the people he once loved enough to stay. Now they were a reminder: of what he had lost and what the future held. Peace and kindness lay ahead for Albion – if the people were to be trusted with their fate. It gave him hope. But still, he could not move.

An hour passed. The light had faded but the candles still burned bright in the mist, casting a glow that protected the sacred land from the frozen night. Guinevere turned to address her people. They listened. “Under my watch, you may rest here. At first light, we will make leave for Camelot. To those who stayed behind to guard our kingdom, we honour them by leaving our sorrows here; and returning with a renewed hope and determination. For the world we build is in the name of those who have left us” she swallowed “and those we will leave behind.” Her smile was gentle but sorrowful. “Rest now.”

A quietly powerful chorus rose from the people. “Long live the Queen.”

Guinevere bowed her head, hiding her blush. Merlin couldn’t hide his smile, pride, seeping through his skin. This suited her: governing the people. But she was still the same Gwen. His bones ached with regret. So as she, too, turned in for the night, Merlin made a vow.

“You will be protected this night.”

With a flash of golden eyes, the boy sent the guards to sleep – for they had earned their rest – and sent the mist sweeping over the people, thicker than ever. One by one, each candle flickered out as the night grew darker. He sat. And waited. And watched.

Merlin stayed awake until just before dawn, when the first bodies began to stir, and he silent rose from his place. He blew the mist away and spared one last glance to his queen. She lay peacefully on her side, facing the lake. She hadn’t slept, he knew that. Once or twice through the night, she walked through the sleeping bodies, watching her people rest for the first time in a year. He wished he could bring her true peace but nothing could. If she mourned the way he did – every day – then there was no magical cure.

Instead, the young warlock turned to finally look at the island and the glistening, waiting water that lay before him.

“Arthur.” The name was foreign to his lips. “You are not forgotten.” He decided. “But I must be.”

He turned before he could see Gwen sit up from her position and watch him walk away.


End file.
